Unfaithful Woman
by m r s . w r i t i n g
Summary: ALL HUMAN. BPOV. Lemons. Bella is married. She's having an affair with Edward. What happens when her husband finds out? And is she falling in love with Edward after swearing she wouldn't? Will she choose to save her marriage, or happiness?
1. Red Lights

Unfaithful Woman: Chapter one

_You don't have to put on that red light  
walk the streets for money  
you don't care if it's wrong or if it is right_

I don't see why I still did this. He meant nothing to me. I was happily married, yet I was jeopardizing the life I had tried so hard to build. I walked down the cold Chicago streets, weaving through the people. It was Thursday. Thursday was the day that James spent two extra hours at work making phone calls. The fact that I scheduled my dates with Edward so James would not catch me just reminded me how wrong this was; because I knew what I was doing was wrong. I didn't want him to stop me, and I didn't want to lose him. I had loved James my entire life, since we were children, but I also had been dating him since my sophomore year in high school. It eventually got old. Edward…Edward was different, new. And he was so spontaneous. He was so reckless, willing to get caught at any moment. No, he was not married, but he was a very pronounced pianist. He was also quite the subject of potential slander. He had a life, just like me, but he was so willing to risk it all just to have a secret life with me. He had been a bachelor his entire life, never settling for just one woman. Perhaps that's why I wanted to be with him so badly. James seemed like he would leave if he wanted to, especially if he found out I was having an affair. He'd realize that he was wasting his time. Edward… he was willing to risk it all.

I buzzed the door on his apartment. It was routine. It had been going on for half a year now, my cheating on James. No one knew except for Alice and Rosalie. Their husbands didn't even know. But the weird part was that their husbands were best friends with Edward. It was another way to get caught and I loved it. I loved being so close to the line, crossing it as I pleased when no one noticed, and then, returning to my life as if I didn't even see the line clearly painted along my morals. "Yes?" he called through the speaker.

"You know who it is," I stated into the speaker.

"I do. Come on up."

With a buzz, I opened the door. I began up the five flights of stairs. I don't know what I found in Edward. Well, yes, I do. He was handsome, smart, dangerous, yet so safe. He was the perfect dream guy. I suppose I liked having my cake and eating it to. I got the perks of a relationship with no duties, because there were no duties with James. We weren't in love anymore. Marriage with us was just a goal, not a want. And once we lost it, the only grief would be caused by failure, not heartache. I rounded the corner. There he was, leaning against his door. He wore a black button down and tight jeans, his hair tousled as if he hadn't even bothered to brush it this morning. I almost blushed at the thought of making it even more disheveled then it already was.

Hearing the clanking of my high heels, he turned his head in my direction, a smirk now splaying across his lips. "I've missed you," he said, approaching me in a lurk.

"I could say the same," I smiled. We were so close now that our noses were touching. He wrapped an arm around my waist, opened his door, and threw us inside of his apartment. There was music sheets splayed across the room, everywhere. He had been working. "Did I disturb you?" I asked in a gasp as his lips traveled down my neck.

"No," he answered simply, biting my collar bone. "I was just passing the time, waiting for you." He took my lips into his, kissing me wildly. "I look forward to these dates, you know," he smirked.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. We fell onto his bed.

_You don't have to wear that dress tonight_

_You don't have to sell your body to the night_

Slowly, my eyes slid open. I saw the expanse of white bed sheets before me, which held no Edward. Usually I woke up with his arm securely wrapped around my waist, or to his eyes, staring at my naked form, after I tossed the sheets away in my sleep. I was about to call out to him, until I heard the sweetest sound. It was his piano, and I realized that he had returned to the work I had interrupted earlier. Edward was a true artist. Once he began something, he finished it as soon as possible. A smile crept up my lips. The sound was sweet and melodic.

Sitting up, I wrapped the crisp white sheet around my chest and left his bed. Peering through the doorway before arriving to it, I saw his half naked figure at the piano, in only his boxers, playing the piano. I could only see the back of him, but his neck arched downward, letting me know he had his eyes closed in a hypnotic state, concentrating on perfecting the sound he had in his head that he needed to get down on paper. He was the type of artist no one understands. You can't understand his viewpoints or his music. You can only take it in, be happy with it. He will give you no explanation for his music, or any of his actions toward life. If he wanted something he would find some way to get it. I suppose he wanted me. But I don't' know what he would have done in order to get me if I had ever refused him – which I never had.

I padded across the black floor. I placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know I was here. Slowly, the song ended, and he turned to me, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. "Afternoon," he stated, taking my lips with his.

"Afternoon," I giggled back, kissing down his neck. "What was that piece?" He was silent for a moment. He looked away from me, becoming distant and staring into space. "What's wrong?" I placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me.

His eyes darkened with sorry. My brows furrowed; I was hoping I didn't do anything wrong. "Nothing, Bella," he placed me beside him and stood. His hand lingered on my arm, grazing the skin, and as he left me, his touch did too.

Sorrow filled me. I didn't like the idea of making Edward sad. I may have convinced myself that I was not in love with him, but I still cared for him. I stood, not letting him get away. "Edward?" I called in a soft voice. When I got to his bedroom, I saw him in his pants, pulling his shirt over his head.

"It's nothing Bella," he told me, not even looking at me. "'S not important," he added in a low voice, not intending for me to catch it.

"What if it's important to me?" I asked.

"It won't be." His tone was almost venomous now.

I didn't know what I did wrong. I felt my heart slightly ripped. I hated the idea of hurting him. I ran through my mind what had happened that day. Had I sad something in my sleep? But it must have had something do with the song… "I'm sorry," I apologized. I reached for my underwear, slipping them on under the sheet.

"For what?" he turned to look at me. It was my turn to turn away now. I grabbed my bra, blouse, and skirt and maneuvered around Edward and made it to the bathroom.

"For whatever I did," I answered before quickly shutting the door. I dropped the sheet, tears slightly filling my eyes. I don't know why I did this. It wasn't like I had all of him, and it wasn't like I had all of him to myself. He didn't have all of me. It wasn't a real relationship. It was a fling, a fling I was having behind my beloved husband's back. I was having an affair. I was unfaithful. I didn't deserve to be treated nicely. I deserved the exact treatment that I got. I did keep going to him again and again didn't I? If I didn't want him, then I shouldn't go. But I shouldn't want him, so wanting him, and seeing him should accompany the consequences…right? This was wrong, yet I kept doing it.

Getting dressed, my mind was filled with pictures of James. He treated me right. He had never done anything to hurt me. He was handsome, well built. There were hundreds of girls that would more than love to have him all to themselves. And I had him, and I was taking him for granted. I looked at myself in the mirror. My lip gloss was gone, probably smeared all over Edward's chest and shoulders. I buttoned up the last button on my blouse. I straightened my skirt. I grabbed his brush from off of the counter, brushed my hair, and pulled it up into a bun.

Slowly, I exited his bathroom. He was sitting on his bed, leaning on his knees, head down. As I passed him, reaching for my heels, he looked up. "Bella, I'm sorry if I upset you." What was he sorry for? I deserved the worst. He should have been the meanest ever to me. I deserve worse than what I was getting.

"Don't be," I answered him. "You did nothing." He was doing nothing. I was the one with the responsibilities, with the promises to keep. He held no promise or responsibility toward anyone.

"Bella," he grabbed my wrist from his position on the bed. I gently pulled away, not wanting to cause him harm. "Please look at me."

I did look at him. I tried to show apathy. Sorrow was in his eyes. He felt sorry. He truly did. Perhaps I saw…care…or…love in his eyes. No, no, no, no, no, that can't be love. He can't love me. No, he can't. No, no, no he can't. _I'm in love with James_, I thought. There is no way. Edward is not falling in love with me, because if he is, then that means that he cares. My thinking that I was only sex for him was what kept me from feeling guilt toward hurting James emotionally. I cared for Edward, dearly, but my thinking that Edward didn't love me was the line. It was the line that kept me with James. I couldn't leave James. I can't leave him. I can't be with Edward. This was never supposed to happen. Plus: I don't deserve Edward. I don't even deserve James. It's wrong.

I needed to stop this. I needed to stop hurting them both. I could see it in Edward's eyes. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that Edward was sad because this was all that we'd ever be. Secret lovers. We could never love each other. Pure attraction is all this can ever be. So, I looked away. "I'll see you next week, Edward." I heard a quick intake of breath from him. I was trying to hide my care. I looked away, not turning back, speaking in monotone. I couldn't let him think I cared for him the way he cared for me. I just hoped I was wrong. I hoped all of my thoughts were wrong. I hope he thought I was the most worthless person ever. We could never be together. Because it was wrong, and undeserving. I was hurting Edward. I was hurting James. I was hurting myself. It needed to end.

_His eyes upon your face_

_His hand upon your hand  
His lips caress your skin  
it's more than I can stand_


	2. Believe Me When I Say I Love You

Unfaithful Woman: Chapter Two

_Why does my heart cry?  
Feelings I can't fight  
You're free to leave me_

I left Edward's without another word. I pulled through the gates of the estate. Why was I so unfaithful? I had everything most women would kill for. And most women have killed for it; some cases more literal than others. I lived in the most beautiful home, surrounded by the most beautiful estate. I had a sexy husband who made…_quite_ the paycheck. I can't say that I had James's love. I can't say that I have Edward's either. So love wasn't in the matter at all. Though, the matter of Edward loving me was undecided, and until I was sure he cared for me in the way he shouldn't, in the way I shouldn't feel towards him, I would keep telling myself that he and I were not in love. Even if he was…it was still wrong. If he did love me, that would make it worse. No, I was not in love with James. No, I don't think he was in love with me. But love wasn't the matter. I was still married to him. I was still his wife. He never hurt me. He never would hurt me. He would prevent harm toward me. He took care of me. I was spoiled. Maybe not with love, but with the things in life that still most women craved. I was envied, and I knew that. But I still couldn't tell myself that the luxuries in life I had, provided by James, wasn't the good enough. I still needed to feel loved. To feel wanted. And to feel wanted by Edward was just enough for me to get by with guilt that would allow me to live with myself. If he loved me…that was a completely different story.

But it still needed to end. If he did love me, it wouldn't matter. It's not like I would love him back. He was just sex. He's only been sex. I felt wanted as a woman, and he was taking a risk to be with me. But did I really want to be _just_ wanted? Was that enough in life? Do I really need love too? Well, I do need love, but the question is…is it Edward's love I need? It didn't matter. I set my thoughts off aside until a different time. I parked the car into the garage and made my way into the house. The cleaning services had already run through, because the lights were on and the floors were even more spotless than when I left. It wasn't like James and I had any children and the house was huge. It would take weeks for one person who's never home and another person who only uses four rooms to clutter the house. So I suppose it was safe to say that most of the luxuries I had were unneeded. I had too much jewelry. I never had to clean up after myself. I had at least…three cars, and then you would add James's four. I didn't deserve any of it.

I was now in the kitchen. I made sure to lock the kitchen door that led to the garage. I was going to be alone in this house until at least seven tonight. I pulled off my heels and my Jacket. I discarded my scarf and bundled the articles in my hand. After going upstairs and putting away my scarf, jacket, and heels, I came downstairs and made my way into the kitchen. If there was one thing that I would not let James keep me from doing, it was cooking. I cooked every night. It was one of the only things that I actually did for myself. I liked to feel a little independent. James grew up being waited after hand and foot. I didn't. James, and in his words, "would have no wife of his that would have to wait after herself." Well, I always took care of myself. He would die if he found out I drove myself around town. Little did he know that I fired my driver a long time ago. (Why we had two personal drivers and seven cars, I don't know, you tell me.) Most of the things I had were ridiculous. I hated money being spent on me. I was sick to my stomach most of the time because all of this was going to waste. But I had been with James since I was sixteen, and I eventually got used to the gifts and the pleasantries. But that doesn't mean I had to like them.

I arranged the ingredients on the counter and set a pot of water onto the stove and then began to chop the vegetables that I would need for the sauce. I glanced at the clock. It was only three. I arrived at Edward's around noon. I had probably only slept for forty-five minutes, so I would be out like a light tonight. I got lost into my thoughts, going through my schedule this week in my head. _Tomorrow, you need to book a band for next Saturday's banquet, because you procrastinated, and need music…soon! You need to send your dress for the banquet into the cleaners. Also, you need a slip for the dress…and shoes to go with it…and-_

"Holy shit!" I cried. I heard a deep familiar voice chuckle behind me. I turned to see James, forgetting my knife and vegetables. What was he doing here? And why the pleasant (or scary and hazardous) surprise? "James," I went abruptly, not expecting him. Why was he home so early? And why didn't I know? "What are you doing home?"

"Well," he laughed, "I do live here. And the house is kind of in my name too, you know," he laughed again.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked. He was flirting with me? He hadn't looked at me in days. We never even spoke to each other unless we needed to discuss upcoming events. "Good night," and "see you when you get home," was basically all we said…to each other…_daily_!

"What? I can't surprise my wife?" My heart ripped. Oh, now I was cheating and he was being nice? What, does he want to have kids now too? (Goodness forbids.) There was a silence for a moment. I discarded the fact that I could have cut off my finger when he surprised me. The last thing you want to do is to surprise a distressed woman with a knife in her hands. "Bella," he began, "I think we need to talk." _Oh…shit…_ I thought. _Great. Here comes the "I think we should have a baby" talk! You jinxed yourself! Oh you-_ "I've been neglecting you…" he interrupted my thoughts.

What? And that's how I reacted out loud, as well. "What?" My brow furrowed.

"Bella," he tried to explain. His hands found my waist and he looked me into the eyes. I don't know why I ever fell out of love with this man, because I still remember why I fell in love with him. "We haven't…I noticed that we didn't even speak to each other this morning, that is, besides good bye." My hand found his cheek, appreciation filling my stomach. An old, dead flame began to spark again. He kissed my palm and said, "Then I realized, that we haven't spoken to each other in days. We haven't had a decent conversation in almost two weeks really, and it was about the banquet next Saturday."

"Technically, it was more like business, considering I was asking you if the Howlers and the Barkers needed to be anywhere near each other during dinner," I told him with a weak smile.

He scoffed at the fact, finding the ridiculousness in it. "Yes, I am aware," he kissed my palm again. I was glad that he was at least trying. He was apologizing.

"For a while there I thought you didn't want me." I shouldn't have said it. I saw sorrow fill his dark, grey eyes and his sculpted face crumble. Images of Edward and I making love clouded my mind. The visual of Edward's hurt face clouded it too.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what ever happened…" I placed my other hand on his other cheek, comforting him. He took my lips into his. "I've always wanted you," he told me, then devoured my lips with his own. The flame that we used to hold, the flame that I felt with only him, began to rage. And as it raged, I became rougher with him. At that moment…I realized that…the reason why James and I never split up was because in our subconscious we knew there was hope. The odds were in our favor, all we had to do was bet on them.

I let out a moan as one hand traveled from my waist to my butt. He took a firm squeeze and I let out a gasp for air. His lips found my neck, nipping at the skin like an animal. "There used to be a time," he said huskily, "when we would make love constantly. We acted like animals toward one another. I don't know what happened. You've been irresistible all this time." My heart melted at his words. I'd always been wanted by him… _Why couldn't you have acted on it earlier, you idiot_ I thought. Though, most coherency vanished rather quickly, right along the time where his other hand found my breast.

"I need to fix dinner," I said in a gasp.

"I already turned the stove off, Isabella," he said. I loved it when he called my by my whole name. As I grew up, he was the only one allowed to because he said it at just the right times. Edward said my whole name, but…it's just that…James had it…marked in away. He had full rights to it, I suppose.

He ripped his hands away from my behind and breast and grabbed my waist, placing me up on the counter adjacent to the sink, which was right next to my cutting board. He kissed me roughly, sending the most pleasant feeling from the tip of my toes, to my brain, all the way back down to my core. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him, letting out another moan. James using my whole name was my soft spot. The sounds I made during love making were his soft spot. I could feel the arousal straining through his dress pants. He had pulled my hair down from its bun, and by this time, I had undone his tie. I locked my lips onto his for dear life. Edward was no where in my mind. All I could hear was James's breaths and little, sexy remarks. All I could feel was James. All I could smell was James's natural scent. (Yeah, that's right. I married a man that hates cologne. Go ahead, be jealous.)

He began to unbutton my blouse. I laughed. He was willing to take me right next to my cooking materials… "James," I giggled, "do you really want to do this here?"

He smirked onto my lips. "Like I said, there was a time when our love making was constant. I've taken you just about on every surface you can think of. What's new?"

I smirked to myself inwardly. "The sofa we just ordered…" We had just refurnished the living room. (He wanted new hardwood floors instead of carpet. So I had to repaint, and then I needed new furniture. Damn rich boy.)

"Let's try it out," he said, tightening my legs around his waist. I moaned at the contact of his arousal at my core. He growled at the sound I made.

He practically threw me onto the sofa, and then held himself above me. He attacked my neck as I tried to get rid his undone tie. "You really need to propose a new dress code at the office," I gasped, getting frustrated with the tie.

I began to unbutton his shirt. Once it was unbuttoned all the way, I had no time to pull it off. He distracted me. He bit my breast through the expanse of skin he had revealed by unbuttoning only four buttons. I moaned his name. He looked up at me slyly. His hands were now on my waist, which was too innocent of a place for him to have while having this reaction coming from me. "What do you want, Isabella?" Rich boys. Always needing to be in control. I may not have been _with_ this man in the longest time, but I still know how he ticks. I took his lips into mine, biting at his bottom lip followed by licking it. I grabbed his hand from the left side of my waist, (I always went for his right hand…why is that? He is right handed though…) and I trailed it downward. My skirt had ridden up, because at the moment, he was in between my legs. I pulled away just in time to say to him, "Touch me," in a gasp. I placed his hand at my core. He devoured my lips, and then granted me what I needed most. After stroking me through my underwear, he realized that it wasn't having a good enough affect on me, although I was ready to come right then. His lips trailed down my lips, my torso, eventually right above my womb. He dove under my skirt and pulled my underwear from me.

After he did that, he returned to my lips. But right before he continued on taking on his goal, he looked me in the eye, wearing an amused smirk on his face. "Isabella, tell me… You were rather flushed when I arrived home…" Oh, God. Flushed? Had I not recovered from Edward completely? It only took a few moments to get home… God…do I need a week to recover from one session of sex? Honestly? He pecked me on the lips and then made a trail down my neck again, but this time, unbuttoned my shirt with his free hand. "You weren't thinking of me by any chance today…were you?" When James and I did make love constantly, when he was at work, if we weren't meeting for…"lunch dates" then I had to take care of my need for him myself. There was one occasion when he decided to come home early…and caught me in the middle of me taking care of business. So, ever since then, if I was flushed…he could tell… I don't know how. And he always knew when it was from exercising or an orgasm. He knew how I ticked as well.

I needed his touch so badly. His fingers lingered only centimeters away from me. I giggled. "You'd be surprised what I think about a night. Do you really want to know what I think about when I'm in need of you?"

His smirk grew all the more sly. He dove two fingers into me. I almost screamed at the contact, but I was unable to make any sound. I bit my lip…almost drawing blood. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered into my ear, using his other hand to rip away my blouse. I whimpered in response, untangling my arms from the cloth and then wrapping them around James's shoulders. He knew me so well. We were only seventeen when we first had sex. How he could stand being with only me, with all of my oh-too noticeable imperfections, for ten years was beyond me. He knew how to make me make any sounds he wanted, and right now, he was like a composer, making a series of sounds by pushing just the right buttons. I raked my nails down his sculpted chest. He was still as attractive as the day I met him…if not more, that is. Actually…he's improved tremendously.

He growled, and then added a third finger. "We haven't all day," he whispered into my ear. And that was it. That was all I could take. I let out a cry, but muffled it as I bit into his shoulder. He moaned at the vibrations my sounds sent through his skin as I took my lack of control on his skin, and I released onto his fingers. He kissed me then, at first lovingly, but then dominantly. We weren't done yet, I presume.

My hands found his belt buckle as his hands found my bra. He unhooked it as I undid his belt and slid it through the loops and through it onto the newly finished floors with a clank, and probably a scratch. He leaned up for a moment on his knees, untangled his shirt from his arms, and looked down on me as I lay there topless undoing his pants. He smiled at the sight and then returned to me. He took my breast into his mouth as I began to rid him of his pants. He pushed my hands away and placed them above my hands. "You're forgetting who's in control," he sang. I became even wetter at that comment. I loved being taken control of. I bit my lip, biting a moan in the process. He reached under me, undoing the zipper of my skirt, and then began to slide it down my legs. I was now going to be fully exposed to him for the first time in a year… (We used holidays as excuses to have sex, so we weren't…completely foreign to each other.) He still liked what he saw.

This was his tour. He always did this. He always tried to memorize me. He began at my lips, trailed those dangerous kisses down my neck…then to my chest, placing a kiss on each breast and then above my heart, down my stomach, kissed right where my womb was, and then……and then he stopped. "Bella?" he asked. First of all, he called me "Bella," not "Isabella," so that told me something was wrong. Second was his tone. It was confused and abrupt.

"What?" I asked, leaning up on my elbows. And there I saw it. Right above my right leg, were the crease is, was a little red mark…a hickey. _Holy shit…_

"What's this?" he asked, a little upset.

_No, this isn't happening. Not this way, not after things began to heal, and not after I told myself I would stop my deceit. _I thought. "Um…you don't remember?" The thing about being married to a business man was that business men lie. And as a wife of a business man and knowing how my husband works, I know how his lies work. I know how his mind works.

"What?" Confusion was clearly sketched across his face. And behind that confusion probably was a tiny smidge of anger. "We made love last night?"

I thought. "_We_ didn't do anything," I laughed. "_You_ did _everything_…"

Also, there were nights when I would wake up to James caressing me. If I wasn't dreaming of some naughty things, he would make them naughty by doing something in conscious world to make a reaction in my subconscious one. And if they were naughty…then I made certain sounds…that would lead him to do the…well…you know.

"I don't…" he trailed off.

"Honestly, we were both pretty tired," I said in a smile. "We both had an extra glass of wine and it was in the midst of the night." Now, the wine fact was true. He had had a fight with a fellow of his, and began to work it over in his mind. One glass of wine was all it took to calm his nerves, so he had an extra during dinner. Usually, he would replace it with water…but he must have been worked up. "And I was…really tired after…well…" I trailed. That was true too. He knew that I was beat after orgasming. And since I had already been with Edward that day, I would probably be out…like a _dead light_ tonight instead. "So you really can't expect me to recall…" James was a heavy sleeper, and he was rather flustered himself when ever he was in the mood as well as I.

The phone rang. Thank goodness. That stopped my lie, and there was no way he would be able to get back into the mood after that little interrogation. And there was no way I would be able to while having a lie on my subconscious during sex. _(Edward damn you. You left a fucking mark!)_ I noticed the decrease of his arousal. I was relieved though, at his reaction toward the ringing phone. "I could always let it ring," I told him.

"No," he said, reaching for it and glanced at the caller ID. "It's Alice," he informed me sullenly. I pulled on his shirt, covering myself up, now feeling exposed in the worst ways.

I took it from him. "Alice," I spoke into the phone. "I could kill you!"

He scoffed in amusement.

"_Well, I was just thinking…perhaps we should change the banquet to a Bohemian theme!" _

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her. I now stood in front of James who was now looking away from me, hands on his knees. As Alice spoke, I felt guilty. The guilt that I had felt was now…quadrupled. I placed my hand on his cheek, and made him look at me. Once I caught sight of his eyes, I realized: he wasn't upset with me. He was pouting! I smiled, amused at the thought. I bent down and kissed him, taking my sweet time as Alice rambled on about a proposal that I would not accept. (She went too far out sometimes…)

After the fairly long kiss, I spoke. "I love you." They were words that didn't have meaning in the longest time. I was glad that things with him were clearing up…that being with him I could be happy and I could have all these luxuries plus his love. But his love surpassed it all.

"_What? Bella! Are you listening to me! Get away from James and listen to me!"_

I laughed. "No, Alice… I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" Without waiting for a response I hung up the phone. I threw it on the other side of the couch, making a soft thud. I wrapped my arm around James's shoulders and sat on his lap. (Though I felt thoroughly exposed at the moment considering I was only in my husband's button down and no underwear.)

I looked him deep into the eyes. I looked for what he was feeling at the moment. And what I saw in his eyes was foreign to me… He wrapped arm around my waist, and placed a hand on my thigh. "I love you too."

_But just don't deceive me  
And please believe me  
When I say, I love you_


End file.
